Dominus
by Doomina
Summary: To continue his rebellion, Spartacus must plan his next attack towards Rome and Ilithyia makes him a proposition to be his ally. Trying to continue after the episode "Kill Them All" and before season two premieres. Rated M. Ship: Spartacus/Ilithyia.


**N/A:**

This is my first fanfic in this fandom. I watched the series in two days and I ship Spartacus/Ilithyia after the episode "Whore". The idea of this fic is to continue the story after the last episode: _Kill them all_, since we have to wait a while for the next season. I must tell everyone that I'm not very good in describing the fights and perhaps this story will have more romance (and sex) scenes. It's not my intent to exclude battles all the way, for they are one of the best things in the show. I just want to warn everyone about it, because I gain nothing for writing this peace.

**WARNING:** This story contains swearing, sex scenes and probably non-con. If you don't mind any of those things, I hope you like the plot. However, if you prefer to read love stories, you are in the wrong place.

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**Dominus**

By Doom

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It was like happiness again. She had left Capua – the serpents' nest – to never return. She smiled to that thought while tasting the best wine she had ever tasted, without letting that awful taste in her tongue, as did the wine served in the house of Batiatus. She got up from her bed and walked to the balcony, admiring the beautiful view of Rome. But for how long?

She felt soft hands on her shoulders, announcing her husband as there. The smell of wine accentuated. Of course. After he discovered that she was to blame for the death of Licinia, he would only touch her after drinking too much. There was no love left between them and she doubt there ever was in the first place. Then, something besides the smell of wine made her realize his presence. His hands were golden and stained her shoulders with tones that sparkled when the light of the setting sun hit them. She turned her head and faced Spartacus' deep eyes through a cherub mask.

- What are you doing here? – He didn't answer, but his hands slid from her shoulders to her lap and neck. She felt a sudden shiver while he bent his chest towards her, whispering in her ear.

- Your husband must bleed gold for I have bathed is his death this afternoon.

Ilithyia felt something stab her heart, but Spartacus was not carrying any weapon. She closed her eyes, waiting for her end. If the slaves had taken over her house, is was all over and there was nowhere left to run or time to do it. She could hear the screams now, echoing in her mind like in the night she had sealed the gates of the house of Batiatus. If he only knew she had contributed. If Spartacus only knew…

She was still alive and his hands had left her neck, forcing her shoulders and body to face him. Maybe he wanted her to look at him while he killed her. See the sweet life leave her forever. And then she felt she deserved to look at him too, so with one empty hand, she reached to take off his mask. Ilithyia observed Spartacus' sweaty face for the last time, but she was wrong, for he did not intent to end her life.

Spatacus bent his body again and touched her lips with his own. She returned the gesture, for her fear had taken over all of her senses, forcing them to give in to him, in all ways possible. Maybe she did long for this, even while trying to forget him after that night where they both whore masks. A thick whisper escaped from her lips when his hand touched her breasts above her nightgown. She felt the golden liquid under her nails after sliding them over his back and when he threw her in the bed, Ilithyia imagined if there was also blood draining from his warm and sunburned skin.

- Would you prefer I whore the mask? – He asked, his body pressing her against the fine linen of the bed she shared with her husband. – To pretend I'm Glaber?

- Not if you're gonna fuck me like he does – his hidden smile made her less afraid.

She waited for his lips before she turned their bodies over the bed, staying above him while getting rid of the only peace of clothing between them and pleasure. It was obvious he was still not ready for her, so she helped him get to the point where she was impatiently waiting for him. It did not take long for him to hold her with vitality, reversing the positions and taking her by the hips to hook her body over his stiff member.

The first lunge was like that night, soft and pleasurable. She longed for his savage touch and asked for it by staking her nails on his naked shoulders, ripping his skin and having some of Spartacus' blood on her hands. The thrill of making him bleed was indescribable and Ilithyia imagined if that was like the gladiators felt in the arena. Was the climax of sex the same as the one in the battle? She moaned while he penetrated her deeper, his hands firmly placed on her breasts, thirsty for that touch.

There was no need to ask for a harder or quicker motion, for Spartacus seemed to read her mind and everything there that could bring her closer to an orgasm sooner and for more than once. It was a thousand times better than that night at the house of Batiatus, when she was no certain of the man behind the mask. But that statement was to deceive herself, for Ilithyia knew that it wasn't Crixus behind the curtain or the golden paint. Lucretia would not allow it, definitely. It was Spartacus and she desired him since she had put her eyes upon him the first time he entered the arena.

It was Spartacus who touched her like she had never been touched. It was Spartacus that made her thighs turn numb just by approaching her. It was Spartacus that left her wet when he gazed at her. It was Spartacus that possessed her at that very moment, when she asked herself how she could have bear so long without him touching her. It was Spartacus that kissed, licked and bit her, extracting whispers of pleasure from her lips. It was him that made her bleed…

Oh, and how she bled… From pain, from stasis, from life… There was blood in the linen and it was so much more that she felt draining from his wounds or from the cut he had made in her stomach with a sword. Perhaps the same sword that was used to assassinate Batiatus, and the Romans… And Claudius...

She moaned a question that stood lost in a rambling noise and a stare of her opened wide eyes, glancing at Spartacus without the sheen of climax he had provoked in her. He touched her eyelids, closing them.

Ilithyia's eyes opened wide and a scream was stuck between her chest and throat, almost suffocating her. She looked around to notice that she was alone in her carriage, shaking to the sides while the slave ordered the horses to run away from the house of Batiatus. Only one night had passed since she watched Spartacus fight and jump to the balcony and to the slaughter. She felt a sudden fear, but then smiled when realizing why the gods had blessed her with that nightmare. She stretched her head to the outside of the carriage and screamed to the slave.

- TO SOUTH! THE ADRIATIC SEA.

The slave calmed the horses to take the opposite direction from Rome, fearing the purpose of his Dominus' wife.

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_Next chapter: Spartacus and Ilithyia meet and she offers him __something._

_Is anyone curious? Just l**eave a review** and I'll add a new chapter soon._

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This fic doesn't have a beta-reader, so it is possible that the grammar (and some other things) need fixing. Even more that the one I wrote in Portuguese for I live in Brazil and English is not my first language. If anyone is interested enough to help me with this story (as a beta-reader), I sincerely hope I can hear from you in a review or email.


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